Braid
by sinemoras09
Summary: AU. It is a matter of duty. Itachi is betrothed. female Shisui/Itachi, pre-massacre. Angst. No spoilers.


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1.

It is the first of many meetings, but Mikoto doesn't listen. While her husband and the other men negotiate - this much of a dowry, this title and this piece of land - Mikoto turns and wanders toward the courtyard, watching her eldest son and the girl he is to marry playing in the grass.

The girl is ignoring him. Mikoto's heart stills as she watches little Itachi standing a few paces behind her, mustering up the courage to speak.

"Go away," Shisui says, and Itachi says nothing, just turns and sits quietly behind her. It takes all of Mikoto's self-restraint to keep from swooping in and gathering the child up in her arms.

xXx

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That night, Mikoto tucks Sasuke in bed; she doesn't go to Itachi's room, as Fugaku has decreed Itachi is too old to be coddled. She sweeps back Sasuke's hair and smiles.

"Ne, mama?" Sasuke's small face peeks out from under the covers. "What were you and papa doing?"

"We were meeting with your uncle," Mikoto says. "We are arranging for your brother to marry."

"But Itachi-nii is just a kid," Sasuke says. Mikoto smiles.

"It is for when he is older, Sasuke," Mikoto says. "When you are older, you will understand."

"Mama?"

"Hmm?"

Sasuke sits up from under the blankets, his small body baby soft and warm against Mikoto's side. "Is it because Itachi-nii doesn't have any friends?"

Mikoto stops. Sasuke crawls beside her, lying his head against her lap. "Sasuke, what do you mean? Of course your brother has friends," she says, but Sasuke shakes his head.

"Everyone is mean to him," Sasuke says. "Itachi says they're jealous. But I think they're just mean."

"Sasuke." Mikoto's eyes dim. She leans forward and kisses Sasuke on the forehead. "I will have word with your brother," Mikoto says. "Do not worry, Sasuke. I will speak with him."

But Sasuke has already fallen asleep, breathing softly against Mikoto's side.

xXx

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The child is nine years-old, and already she has the devastating aura of prodigy around her. "Just think of it," Fugaku says. "Two prodigies beneath our household. Uchiha Shisui is the only one suited for our son."

But Mikoto doesn't like Shisui. She doesn't like how Shisui ignores him, flash-stepping away and treating him like an irritating shadow. "Go _away_," Shisui says, but Itachi stubbornly follows her anyway, bearing her insults with consummate grace. "Why the hell are you following me, anyway?" Shisui says.

Mikoto knows; Fugaku had sat him down the night before, telling the child they were betrothed now, it was in his best interest to make friends. Itachi takes to it as he took any mission: with a singular determination that makes the other children uneasy. "He's _weird_," his cousins say. Mikoto's mouth presses into a thin tight line as she watches Itachi weaving through the crowd, eyes staring straight ahead, even as the others jeer and call his name.

xXx

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"Itachi?" Mikoto knocks softly on the door to his bedroom. Itachi looks up.

"Mother," Itachi says. "Can I help you with something?"

Mikoto sighs. Itachi has always been a solemn child, lonely and isolated from the others. She had been against his early graduation from the Academy, arguing with the rest of the Uchiha council that Itachi was just a boy, he needed to interact with other children his age. "He's only seven!" Mikoto said.

"He is deadlier than chuunin twice times his age," they said. "Do not deny this boy his talent, Mikoto. To do otherwise would smother him."

Mikoto had said nothing, but as the months passed her fears were validated. Children his age were afraid of him; the older ones mocked him. And the adults he soon surpassed grew to hate him as well. "Mother?" Itachi says. Mikoto smiles.

"You are getting taller," Mikoto says, and she gently leans Itachi against her side. He closes his eyes at the contact; he is not used to such kindness, and knowing this makes Mikoto sad. "You do not have to go through with it, you know," Mikoto says.

"With what, mother?"

"With the marriage," Mikoto says. Itachi lowers his eyes.

"Father said it was best for the clan," Itachi says. "I only wish to please him."

"You still have a few years, yet," Mikoto says. "You are still too young."

Itachi says nothing. Quietly Mikoto rises, pressing a comforting hand against his head. "I have no doubt you will make the right decision," Mikoto says. "I've always been proud to call you my son."

xXx

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2.

Shisui bristles at the thought of marriage; she is two years older than her supposed groom, and more talented besides. She flash-steps across the horizon, red eyes spinning as she rages against the clan that would offer her up like a plate of meat, without regard to her thoughts on the matter.

Her father called it a matter of duty; her mother said she was honor-bound to comply.

Shisui grits her teeth. She is about to springboard off the branch and into the air when she sees the two figures training below her.

"Nii-san! You're going too fast!"

Itachi and Sasuke are training by the river. Neither boy sees her; she takes perch on the highest branch and watches, silently. Sasuke throws shuriken like stones and Itachi smiles and corrects Sasuke's form.

"You're doing it wrong," Shisui says flatly, and both Itachi and Sasuke turn. Shisui lazily slides off the branch, tucking back a piece of hair and frowning. "It's not about power, it's finesse," Shisui says, and she moves Sasuke's elbow up a half inch, then motions to widen his stance. "There," Shisui says. Sasuke looks up at Itachi, confused.

Neither of them speak to each other, speaking only to Sasuke as they direct him through his stances. "Your footwork is awful," Shisui says. "Careful where you step."

"You are doing fine," Itachi says. He smiles, encouragingly. He doesn't look at her.

They walk back in silence, Sasuke walking between them and craning his neck upwards, shifting his gaze between his brother and his cousin, uneasily.

A breeze stirs. Shisui can feel her hair catch; she glares, running a hand through her hair, irritated. "You guys are too slow," Shisui says, and she takes a stance and vaults upward, flickering into the air.

xXx

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Someday, Shisui will be captain of the police force. She doesn't tell anyone else this, though, because Uchiha women do not typically ascend the ninja ranks. "You will have many beautiful children," everyone tells her, and she thinks of her engagement and the huge injustice of it all, she can't even _choose her own husband_, let alone choose not to get married, not in this backwards fucking clan.

The epitome of this, the one whose face makes Shisui's blood boil, is none other than Itachi's mother, Mikoto.

"I heard she was a great jounin, once," Shisui says. Her own mother pays little attention; Shisui huffs, annoyed. "Mom, just look at her! She was the most feared Uchiha jounin in Konoha! But now look," Shisui says. "She's a goddamn housewife, now."

"_Shisui_, watch your language," her mother says. Shisui glowers and stares.

At the clan meetings, Shisui peers around the columns of men standing in front of her, fixing her gaze on Mikoto's face. She's smiling serenely with an apron in her hands. They say Fugaku was hardly a talented ninja, that he was only clan head through Mikoto's help. Her marriage to Itachi would only serve to bolster Itachi's status. The thought of it makes her seethe.

The clan stirs, and her focus snaps back to the meeting: they are no longer allowed to use the Sharingan within the village limits. "By official decree," the elder reads. "The Sharingan can only be activated within the Uchiha quarter; anything outside our missions can be taken as an act of aggression..."

Shisui glances toward Itachi, whose small face is pale. "You don't see them doing this with any of the other bloodline limits!" someone says. "Fucking Konoha dogs!"

Shisui igores them, and quietly slips out back. It's not until she hears the ensuing scuffle that she returns.

xXx

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Itachi had defended the village. She wasn't there to hear it herself, but he had argued that the Sharingan was a weapon, and as such it was reasonable to keep it under wraps. Whatever ire he had inspired in the rest of the clan has increased tenfold, and Shisui watches, transfixed, as the rest of the Uchiha children surround him, some carrying weapons, a not-so vague threat. "My father says you're a traitor!" one Uchiha boy says. Itachi glares and little Sasuke jumps in front.

"Stop it!" Sasuke says. "Leave nii-san alone!"

Oh, this would not do. Shisui pushes past the crowd and takes a stance. Itachi is startled. "Shisui-san?"

"Shut up," Shisui says, and she grips her kunai.

"What the fuck?" the crowd glares. "We're not fighting a fucking girl."

"What? Afraid of getting your asses kicked?" Shisui says, and she rushes forward.

Uchiha Shisui is not ladylike. There is no elegance in the way she spins and drop-kicks the fuckers out into oblivion. She fights and spits and claws her way through the crowd, a curly-haired dervish spinning into the fray.

"Yeah!" Shisui says, and she pumps a bloodied fist. "That's right, _suck my cock_, bitch, go run to your mamas, I'm sick of you all!"

Itachi covers Sasuke's ears. He's staring at her, wide-eyed.

Sasuke breaks free, grinning. "Wow! Shisui-san! Can you teach me how to fight like that, too?"

Shisui grins, then ruffles Sasuke's hair. "Only if you eat your vegetables," Shisui says. She glances up at Itachi, and her smile fades.

"Hey," Shisui says. "I know you could've defended yourself. But your brother's here, and I just thought-"

"No," Itachi says. "It is all right. Thank you, Shisui-san."

He is shaking. Shisui frowns.

"Well, okay then," Shisui says. "I'll see you around."

xXx

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3.

Years pass, and what started as a grudging sort of tolerance blossoms into something more.

Itachi walks down the market and catches sight of an old woman peddling jewelry by the street. He moves quietly, reverently touching the glass beads as they catch the thin sunlight. The woman smiles.

"Have you got someone special, young man?" she asks. Itachi hesitates.

"I think so," Itachi says. He rolls the beads like a rosary, then reaches into his pocket for his money. He thinks of Shisui and smiles quietly to himself, watching as the old woman wraps the jewelry box with faded paper.

xXx

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Shisui stares at him like he's got two heads. "I'm not wearing this," Shisui says. Itachi stands awkwardly as Shisui gapes at the necklace, the delicate chain reflecting the light. "The fuck were you thinking? You shouldn't have wasted your money."

"I thought you would like it," Itachi says, quietly. Shisui snorts, then snaps the jewelry case closed.

"I'm still not marrying you," Shisui says.

"No one said you were," Itachi says. Shisui watches him suspiciously before breaking out into a beautiful smile.

"Here," Shisui says, and she stands on her toes and sweeps Itachi's hair back. He startles a little before he realizes what she's doing: she's fastening the clasp of the necklace around his neck. She nods in approval.

"It looks better on you, anyway," Shisui says. Itachi touches the beads with the tips of his fingers and follows her down the river.

It is a strange friendship, built mostly on pity on Shisui's part. Stupid little cousin, following her around like an irritating shadow, Itachi knows what she thinks. But slowly she had grown to depend on him as well, waiting at the edge of the pier after a particularly grueling mission. Itachi never spoke much - Shisui did most of the talking for them - but sometimes, in her exhaustion, she would lean her head close, and soft tendrils of hair would fall on Itachi's shoulder. If he moved slightly, he would brush up against Shisui's arm, or accidentally brush the tips of her fingers against his own. But he never did; he was content to sit in a warm silence beside her, listening to her stories and feeling comforted by her proximity alone.

xXx

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He stands in an open field, the mouth of the sky darkening with the coming rain.

Rainwater falls in thick, slick drops around Itachi's feet, mixing with the wet dirt and blood and coagulating into a thick paste. Itachi turns, his boot squelching in puddles, and slowly sheathes his sword. Around him, bodies are littered like broken toys, slash marks cut across their chests and bleeding into the ground.

"Nii-san!"

Itachi opens the door only to see his little brother barreling toward him; he takes a side-step back, pushing Sasuke roughly to the side.

"Sasuke, do not come close. I still must take off this uniform," Itachi says.

"Aww! Nii-san, you never let me play." Sasuke sits and pouts and waits as Itachi dully peels off his flak jacket and discards his heavy breastplate; there are cuts and bruises across Itachi's arms, and his fingernails are caked with another man's blood.

His arms ache. Slowly Itachi kneels, pulling off the straps to his shin guards and untying the knot in his hair. Sasuke crawls on his knees beside him, picking up his ANBU mask. It bothers Itachi how fascinated Sasuke seems to be with it, watching his little brother trace the painted war markings with his small hands.

"Sasuke, come here," Itachi says, and with difficulty he hoists Sasuke up and carries him into the next room. Sasuke squeals, "Nii-san, you're going to drop me!" and Itachi sets him down on the bed. He straightens, then on afterthought, hands Sasuke one of his stuffed animals. Sasuke cuddles it to his chest and flops over on his side, burrowing into the sheets as Itachi pulls the blankets over him.

"Go to sleep, little brother," Itachi says. He stands at the doorway a moment, then switches off the light.

The rest of the house is quiet. Itachi steps into the shower and rolls his neck against the warm water. He could fall asleep like this, standing beneath the hot spray of water, but he forces himself to stay awake. The cuts on his arms sting, and the gash on his side is still weeping blood.

He switches off the light. Quietly, he pads barefoot toward his room, toweling off his hair and sitting heavily on the mattress. The time on the digital clock reads 3:18 and Itachi knows he has another mission briefing in just two short hours. He pulls the covers over himself, sinking into the pillow and closing his eyes.

There is a sound; rocks thudding softly on the corner of his window. Itachi opens his eyes and pushes back the curtains; there in the courtyard, Shisui is tossing rocks at his window, motioning for him to come down.

Itachi sighs heavily; he is too tired to move. Evidently this makes Shisui angry, because she flickers upward and soon enough, is clumsily trying to break into his bedroom window.

"Hard mission?" Shisui asks, when she finally climbs inside. Itachi nods and Shisui touches him lightly on the arm. Shisui has no idea that he's become ANBU, the sudden promotion being a reaction to the growing Uchiha threat that's brewing at the darkest corners of the village. "God, you're all beat up. Where the hell did they send you, anyway?"

"Iwa," Itachi says. He can barely open his eyes.

Shisui lies next to him, but not so close that they actually touch. "I was worried about you," Shisui says, and Itachi wants nothing more than to curl up into the spaces of her neck and chest, wants to steal comfort from something that was never there. Shisui reaches a hand out, then gently brushes back a strand of hair from Itachi's face. Her eyes are blind with tenderness then, and if Itachi concentrates hard enough, he can pretend that Shisui loves him, too.

He falls asleep like this, warm and not alone.

xXx

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It is not supposed to happen, but someone catches sight of his ANBU tattoo, and soon all hell breaks loose.

"Traitor!" the crowd shouts and Itachi is cornered. "Fucking ANBU dog! How the fuck could you betray your clan like that?"

Ribs crack; the smash of a wooden club slams into his shoulder and breaks in half; Itachi staggers forward, coughing blood.

Somewhere, in the dim corners of his mind, Itachi can hear Shisui running. Leaps up into oblivion, then flash-steps into a brilliant white.

xXx

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4.

There is a reason why Shisui allowed Itachi to become her friend; she had been sitting with Sasuke on a log, sharing a canteen of water and staring at the sky, when Sasuke turned to her and tugged on her sleeve. "Ne ne, Shisui-san. Do you think you can be friends with Itachi, now?"

"What?" Shisui startled, staring down at Sasuke, confused. "Your brother is annoying. And your parents want me to marry him anyway, so it doesn't matter."

Sasuke's eyes dimmed. He stared at the ground, digging his toe into the dirt. "What?" Shisui said. "I still like you, you know."

"Yeah, but..." Sasuke hunched into himself. "Nii-san doesn't have any friends," Sasuke said. "And he likes you a lot, and I think it hurts his feelings."

"Shit," Shisui said. She poked a stick into the ground. "You really know how to lay on the guilt, huh?" She broke the stick in half, then stood. "Fine," Shisui said. "But I'm not marrying him."

"Really?" Sasuke's eyes lit up. "Shisui-san, you'll be friends?"

"Whatever," Shisui said, and she took a swig from her canteen.

xXx

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They're taunting him again; it is not the first time. Through the years, she has seen firsthand how the rest of the clan shuns him, how his patriotism for his mother village only brings derision and anger among the others. Even with Shisui with him, the others only grudgingly tolerate his presence, as if his very being offends their senses. "Fucking assholes," Shisui says. "Come on, Itachi. Let's go to the river."

She felt sorry for him. Slowly, Shisui began to understand why Itachi had so fiercely clung to his little brother, the only other clan member who didn't seem to openly hate him. It offends Shisui's sense of justice, which over the years had been honed to a fine point. She befriended him precisely because it made the others angry. She let him sit beside her at the banks of the river, watching the tall grasses bend and the sunlight bouncing off the still waters across them. It felt less lonely this way, sitting at the water's edge and watching the sun start to rise.

xXx

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"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Shisui says.

Itachi sits in front of her, quietly letting her wipe the blood from his face. Shisui moves angrily, grabbing bandages and a basin of water and slamming them onto the table. "Shit, Itachi. You could have wiped the floor with them. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"There was no need." Itachi winces slightly as Shisui digs the cloth into a particularly deep cut in his temple. "They only wish to bait me. I would not give them the satisfaction."

"Idiot," Shisui says. She wrings the cloth in the water and roughly shoves it against Itachi's lip. "Yeah, it's gonna hurt, moron. That's what you get for letting yourself get beat up."

Itachi takes the abuse as he always does; docilely, with that fucking infuriating gentleness that makes Shisui want to kick things. Quietly, he leans his cheek against the palm of Shisui's hand, closing his eyes.

Shisui's mouth tightens. She yanks her hand away, then wrings the blood-soaked cloth in the water.

Methodically, Shisui begins searching the room for medicinal balms, rummaging through the cabinets and palming the small jars in her hand. In-between shelves, she flash-steps, mostly out of habit, but also because it can quicken the process somewhat, and she doesn't like the way Itachi keeps bleeding. "Fucking idiot," Shisui says. She flash-steps again, pulls out another jar. "I'm not a fucking medic nin, jesus."

Itachi says nothing. She turns and sees his eyes are lowered. She sags slightly, then sits heavily beside him on the bed.

"Oi," Shisui says. "You know why I'm putting up with this, right?"

"Why?" Itachi says. He doesn't look at her; he looks tired and sad.

Shisui leans against him. "Because my future husband has a fucking martyr complex, and it pisses me the hell off."

_Husband._ The word drops from her lips like nothing, but she feels Itachi's muscles tighten at the word. He moves to reach her eyes, and Shisui glares, blushing.

"Fuck you," Shisui says, and she stands up again. Itachi watches her, awestruck. She pulls out a jar of medicinal cream and roughly presses her fingers into the cut.

Their eyes meet. Shisui's breath catches. Her fingers gently brush the bruise on his skin.

Because he looks so lost (or at least, that's what she tells herself), she gently touches his face, letting her fingers lightly graze the skin beneath his eyes. She kisses the cut above his lip, gentle-as-you-please and with a certain steadiness that surprises her. He doesn't protest when she pushes him back against the mattress, straddling his lap. The kiss deepens, and she feels him pressing his hands around her waist.

"You're hard." Shisui's eyes widen, slightly. Itachi blushes and glares.

"It cannot be helped," Itachi says, and Shisui laughs softly, bumping her face against his neck and smiling as she kisses the side of his jaw.

xXx

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There are certain things that become routine: training, the feel of the wind while flash-stepping through the trees; on the outside, it is miraculous, but to Shisui it is as mundane as breathing. "I don't get what the big deal is," Shisui says. She's lying shirtless against Itachi's chest, absently trailing her fingers against his collarbone. "You could probably do it, if you tried."

Itachi doesn't answer, and Shisui knows he's too distracted by her body draped across his chest to listen. "Oi," Shisui says. "I'm talking to you."

He turns his head slightly; there's something in his eyes. "Shisui," he says.

"What?"

"You are naked," Itachi says. His eyes are dancing. Shisui huffs, feigning annoyance.

"Yeah, so?"

"I have never seen a naked woman before."

Shisui stops. She leans backward, giving Itachi full view of her breasts. He politely averts his eyes.

"Oh boy," Shisui says. She grabs Itachi's hand and presses it against her breast. His eyes widen. "You can touch them, if you want."

She can tell Itachi's throat is dry. Tentatively he moves his hand, then brushes his thumb across her nipple. A furious blush spreads across his face; he stares down her breast with one determined look, then moves to inelegantly swipe his tongue around her nipple.

Shisui laughs. She bends her head, curls falling over her as she clasps his face with both hands. He's hard again, and Shisui gasps a little as he pushes up inside her, thrusting and burying his face against her neck. Already the novelty of this act has worn off, and it feels as natural and normal as breathing.

Itachi's hair is down. Somehow in the course of their lovemaking, his hair had come undone from his ponytail. Shisui has never seen it down before. She twines his hair in her hands, combing through the loose strands curiously. "You have such pretty hair," Shisui says. She's giddy and stupid from the last two times they've had sex, but she doesn't really care. "My hair gets frizzy and puffy. Your hair is nice and soft."

"I like your curls." Itachi's voice is low and sonorous; he laughs quietly into her skin. Absently, Shisui begins to twist his hair in her hands, braiding it the way she's seen her mother do when she was a child.

"What are you doing?" Itachi says.

"I'm making you look pretty," Shisui says. Itachi turns.

"You're...you're using the _sharingan_?" he says. "You're just braiding-"

"Shut up," Shisui says. Itachi smiles into her neck.

"Even I know how to braid, Shisui," Itachi says.

"Because you're a _girl_," Shisui says. Itachi grips her by the arms and rolls her onto her back.

"Do I feel like a girl?" Itachi says, and his voice is breathy and low and Shisui shivers beneath him.

"_Yes_," Shisui says, because she's vindictive, but also because he feels _so fucking good_ as he slides up inside her.

xXx

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Sometimes, the enormousness of their relationship comes crashing down like the weight of a thousand bounders, and Shisui finds it difficult to breathe. The specter of Uchiha Mikoto and all the female Uchiha above her leers at her from the depths, and Shisui shuts her eyes at the inevitability that she will grow old, she will be discarded, that she too is destined to be confined in prison of another man's home. The injustice incenses her, and sends her into a silent rage.

"You can still make captain," Itachi says, one day.

His breastplate is heavy in her hands; slowly, she runs her thumb against the dull edge of it, frowning slightly as she does.

"Look at your mother," Shisui says. She sets the breastplate down, searching Itachi's eyes. "The most talented jounin in the Academy. And now what is she doing? Washing dishes. They would sooner promote a dog than make a woman captain."

Shisui jabs the ground with her stick, glaring. Itachi's eyes are trained carefully on the ground.

"My mother never liked fighting," Itachi says. His eyes flick upward, meeting hers. "Just because you have a talent for killing doesn't necessarily mean you have to use it."

"Bullshit." Shisui stands, rubbing her hands. "What the fuck do you know about it? You're fucking ANBU now, the fucking elite-"

"Because my father pushed me to." Itachi stands, matching her height and more. "Shisui. If I had my way, I would not even be nin."

"Well good for you. At least you have the option." Shisui's face is pinched. She moves past him, her Sharingan starting to spin.

He grabs her arm before she can flash-step forward, yanking her toward him and making her nearly lose her balance. "Fuck!" Shisui says. "Let me go!"

"Understand," Itachi says, and he voice is low, and he's standing close, and she can feel the heat off his skin. "When we marry, I would not force you to do anything against your will. You know this, Shisui."

Shisui breathes. Itachi's eyes slowly move to meet hers, and she sees that subtle flash of red begin to recede. "So what? The great Uchiha Itachi would be a stay-at-home wife?"

Itachi's mouth quirks. She feels his grip loosen around her bicep. "Civilian, perhaps. I am a man, Shisui-san. I would not be a very good wife."

"Huh," Shisui says, and Itachi leans forward, dropping a soft kiss against her forehead.

xXx

.

The next day, Shisui wears the necklace Itachi had given her. When she sees him, she can see his breath catch; Shisui rolls her eyes and pushes past him.

"I felt like wearing it," Shisui says. She lets him take her hand. "It isn't as ugly as I thought it was."

xXx

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5.

Mikoto stands by the bedroom window, where she can see Itachi and Shisui walking down the old dirt path. The moon is out, and Shisui's curls are backlit silver from the moonlight. She can't hear what they're talking about but Shisui's head is thrown back in an outraged laugh, and Itachi's mouth quirks into a smile.

Something shifts, then, and Mikoto watches as Shisui steps close, the long line of her neck dipping as her body curls around her son's; demurely, Mikoto turns, letting the curtain fall over her line of sight. This is what young love is, Mikoto thinks. She sidles close to Fugaku's body, dropping a kiss on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

xXx

.

The summer Shisui is promoted to captain, the first female Uchiha in the police force to do so, a decree from the Hokage compound comes to pass: the Uchiha are to relocate. Fugaku shakes and the council's voices rise, but Danzou stands, impervious to their threats, as he tonelessly delivers the news.

"Do not take this to heart," Danzou says. "Because of the reconstruction efforts, many clans are forced to re-locate. You are not alone."

"Konoha dog," someone says. Danzou floats past them, hands behind his back, his robes fluttering quietly.

"Itachi," Danzou says, and Itachi's head snaps up. "See to it that the relocation efforts go quietly. We are counting on you."

Itachi says nothing. Quietly, Mikoto presses a hand to her son's shoulder. "No one blames you," Mikoto says, but Itachi pulls away.

xXx

.

Mikoto notices their relationship has strained. In the clan meetings, Itachi's face is pinched, and when Shisui sits next to him and murmurs that everything will be okay, that the clan will win out in the end, Itachi stands abruptly and pushes open the door.

The list of injustices Konoha has wrought is too long to count. Mikoto watches as Fugaku rolls the scroll in his hands, the weight of their segregation too heavy to bear.

"You are our pipeline, Itachi," Fugaku says, and Itachi's eyes lower, straining toward the ground.

xXx

.

Mikoto overhears him when he ends it quietly, standing motionless in the inky dark.

"What?" Shisui says. Her police emblem gleams. "What do you mean, you're ending it? What are you talking about?"

Itachi says nothing; his hair moves slightly in the wind. "We are in different places, you and I," Itachi says. "I do not wish for you to get hurt."

Shisui stops. Her eyes burn like bright red coals.

"There are people who love you. People who care. And you're just going to throw all that away?" Shisui's face cracks; tears well up, then spill. "I don't know why you're being like this," Shisui says.

"Forgive me," Itachi says, and Shisui starts to cry.

xXx

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6.

When they were young, they ran barefoot on the grass, catching fireflies and laughing in the dark. Shisui would fall on her back, hair tousled in loose curls, and she would clasp Itachi by the hand and pull him down with her. _ "When we have kids, I hope they look like you," Shisui says, and Itachi smiles and searches her eyes._

Sometimes, the memories are difficult to handle.

Itachi stands silently as Kisame delivers the final death-blow to the hapless shinobi who had gotten in their way. His sword sings, arcs across the dark gray sky and hits; blood drips down the hilt, and Kisame leers and licks his hand, savoring the blood.

In the weeks before the massacre, Shisui had followed him like a relentless shadow. It had become her mission, to trail the once lover and find proof of his betrayal. It had been almost a year since they had spoke, and though Itachi knew he had been followed, knowing Shisui was the one trailing him was a strange kind of comfort. His Mangekyou spins, reminding him.

_The finishing blow landed squarely in the center of her stomach; she buckled forward, coughing up blood._

_Itachi caught her as she pitched forward, and he fell to his knees, cradling her body as he laid her out onto the ground. He held her there as she took the last agonal breaths of a swimmer dying, hugging her tight as the death tremors shook and her eyes faded into a milky haze. It wasn't until Itachi moved to check her pulse that he saw the small pale beads catching the moonlight, and the silver chain lying across her skin._

_Itachi couldn't breathe. He glanced up at Shisui's face, knowing it had been almost a year since he had last spoken with her, that whatever love for him she had should have died and withered away. But it hadn't. Dully he pressed the tips of his fingers to the skin of her neck, and slowly began to weep. He wept and wracked his eyes, sobbing into her shirtfront, and it wasn't until he slowly sat up again that he realized he had been weeping blood._

Quietly, Itachi fingers the beads around his neck, as had become his habit. The sky opens, and rain falls, mixing with the muddy earth and swirling black with blood. Kisame rises and pushes back the slick of rain from his eyes, grinning slightly as he does.

"You look distressed, Itachi-san," Kisame says. He shakes the blood off his sword and sheathes it behind his back, one graceful, elegant movement. "I can't imagine what a cold guy like you is thinking. But it's obviously nothing good."

_"There are people who love you!" Shisui had said. Rain streamed down her face like tears, the waters of the Nakano crashing onto the shore. _

Kisame is watching him. The rain falls, his cloak sticking to his skin. "Itachi-san?" Kisame says. Itachi's eyes flick upward to meet his.

"We head north," Itachi says. "We will catch up with Sasuke, soon."

.

.

end.


End file.
